War of Allurement
by Teawii
Summary: After putting up with Eric's abusive tendencies for far too long, Kyle seeks solace in his charming friend, Kenny. However, the redhead soon finds that even the most beautiful rose has its thorns. Unable to undo his mistake, Kyle's life slowly spirals downward as he's forced to juggle the two men while they're unbeknown to the other's involvement with their love interest. Kyman/K2.


**Hello! I'd like to put out a warning that this fic contains acts of abuse, alcoholism, and other mature themes. Chapters will almost certainly be posted irregularly but I promise that I'll try to update as often as possible. The main characters are approximately in their early to mid twenties. Enjoy!**

* * *

"Stupid asshole," Kyle mumbled under his breath after the door slammed shut, wiping away stray, unwitting tears that had accumulated in the corners of his misty eyes. They had become bloodshot, the red beginning to overpower the emerald green of his irises. He sniffled and cleared his throat, struggling to hold his head up high while he attempted to pretend that what had just occurred didn't actually happen at all. His inability to accept facts such as this was rather concerning, to say the least. Regardless, he ignored the impeding, negative thoughts and stumbled into the narrow bathroom of his motel room, banging the door after him and tearing off his tight clothing with a severely noticeable, pained wince. The redhead made the mistake of glancing at his reflection in the foggy mirror, tears threatening to pour once again at the pitiful sight.

His top lip was busted, dry blood stained all the way down to his chin. He shakily opened his mouth and checked for any sign of loose or missing teeth, thankfully not finding a single one in disarray. However, his already chipped canine had been further damaged by the collision of the unyielding, calloused fist to his mouth. He shuddered at the remembrance of the feeling, his attempt at forgetting the incident failing deplorably. His left cheek had become a sickening shade of red from the vigorous slap he had also received. Upon looking closer, Kyle could make out a faint row of nail marks fading up along his bruised temple. He had always despised his partner's tendency to not cut his fingernails for weeks at a time. His hair was a tousled, knotted mess from the tight grasp that had been held on him minutes before. He feared a small portion had been torn out and didn't have the strength to check thoroughly. Finally, the redhead's eyes landed on his bruised, scarred body. His arms had noticeable burn marks along them from the twisting and pulling he did in order to get out of the grasp of the abuser while he held firmly onto his thin forearms. His torso was no better, with a repulsive, black wound right above his kidney transplant scar that appeared there after he had been winded by a strong blow to his stomach.

Kyle found himself grabbing the sink for support, his legs buckling from exhaustion. He let himself fall as his fingers slowly slipped off of the porcelain surface. He crawled over to the bathtub and leaned against it, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his fragile arms around them. The frail Jew placed his blood-stained chin atop his shaking knees and clamped his eyes shut. It wasn't long until he slipped into a transient state of unconsciousness, the last image in his mind before loosing his alertness being the taunting face of his perpetrator.

* * *

 _Thirty minutes prior._

"We're not doing this here," Kyle snarled silently at the man opposite him. The aforementioned individual cocked his thick, bushy eyebrow at him, maintaining eye contact as he unceremoniously shoved a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth and chewed slowly. He swallowed the saucy food and cleared his throat, reaching across the table to snag his boyfriend's napkin from beside the redhead's own plate of pasta and messily wiped it back and forth across his scowling lips. Kyle expected a smart reply, but didn't receive one. In fact, he didn't get a verbal response at all. He did, however, take a dirty, scrunched up napkin to the face, courtesy of the man who had just used it. Kyle growled, "Do that again, and I'm leaving."

"Then leave, Jew," the brunette scoffed. "See if I give a continental shit." He continued to devour his meal in silence, ignoring the frustrated glare that the redhead was giving him. As he chewed, he suppressed the urge to add more to the already heated conversation, but used every ounce of power in his form to not fuel the fire any further. However, he knew that it would only go downhill from there, regardless.

"You're unbelievable, Cartman. You know that, right?" Kyle asked dryly as he wiped his hands on his new jeans due to his napkin being stolen and used mere moments prior. He stood up from the table and shoved the chair back into place, swiftly turning and making his way to the exit of the quaint restaurant. "Thank you," he muttered kindly to the waitress who had been serving them as he passed her by.

"I'm assuming you're paying?" she inquired upon reaching the fuming man's table, raising an eyebrow at him with a hand on her thin hip. Unsurprisingly, he didn't respond. Eric tossed a crumpled up fifty on the table and stomped after his retreating date, cursing under his breath in annoyance.

"Kahl," he growled as he caught up to him on the street, grabbing his arm tightly. Kyle turned around in shock as he wasn't expecting to be followed. His perplexed expression soon transformed into one of disgust, futilely trying to pull himself out of the other's strong grasp, but to no avail.

"Cartman, _let go_ ," the shorter male snarled bravely. "I'm warning you, Fatass, I'll-"

"Call me that one more goddamn time, and we'll see where it fucking gets you," the brunette warned, interrupting him. His hold on Kyle's arm got tighter, earning a soft yelp from the slender individual. He began marching towards their motel, dragging the flailing redhead after him. After putting up with Kyle's difficulties for far too long, Eric bent down and shoved him over his shoulder, carrying him with one arm the rest of the way as he kicked and screamed to be put down. As expected, the larger of the two didn't bend to his will.

"Put me down, Asshole! People are staring!" Kyle yelled, pounding his fists against Eric's back. His wrists stung from being pulled along the sidewalk, but he ignored the painful sensation.

"Don't care," he muttered uninterestedly in reply, ignoring the horrified glares he was receiving from passers-by. Upon reaching their room, he pushed open the door and kicked it closed after him, tossing the redhead onto the stained duvet that had fallen onto the ground the night before and hadn't been deemed important enough to be put back in its rightful place. Kyle growled, fixing his bangs that had been splayed across his iridescent eyes, obscuring his vision. "Get up," Eric demanded monotonously, to which his partner refused. "I said _get up_!" he ordered louder, forcing the smaller man to oblige for fear of being injured.

"Cartman, please..." he whispered, his lip quivering slightly. "I don't want to fight with you anymore. Not today." It was their third year of being together and the brunette had taken him to Denver for the weekend of their anniversary, hoping to quell the anger that had developed between them over the past few days before that. Although the first day of their trip had been delightful, the phrase 'the calm before the storm' was extremely evident in this case. Never before had Kyle seen such a genuine smile transform into an infuriated glower in such record timing over something as trivial as laughing a bit too enthusiastically at something their male bartender joked about just before dinner.

"We're not fighting," Eric argued, glaring at his boyfriend as he paced back and forth across the room and counted to ten in his head just as Kyle had recommended him to do whenever he was feeling frustrated or stressed. The problem was that he was now on thirty-two and his mood wasn't improving in the slightest, he was only getting more miffed by the second.

"Then tell me what's been bothering you," Kyle sighed. "Is it me? Did I do something wrong?" His facial expression was calm and collected, yet his eyes were filled with worry.

"No, okay? No," he responded plainly, continuing to pace. "Damn it, just give me some fucking time to think!" The redhead gulped, slowly rising from his place on the wooden floor and walking gingerly over to him. He watched Eric's eyes shift onto him and shuddered at the blank stare. Kyle reached out his hand and softly positioned it against his partner's chest, keeping it there for no more than a couple of seconds before he was pushed forcefully away. " _Don't_ ," Eric barked.

"I'm just trying to fucking fix us, Fatass!" Kyle screamed, his composure dissipating into thin air. He put his fingers to his temples and began rubbing them in circular motions as a form of stress relief, watching as Eric froze in place. His newly formed headache was not helping his situation in the slightest. Suddenly, he felt a rough palm slam against his cheek, causing him to stumble backwards, but he caught himself before he could fall. The redhead looked up at Eric in astonishment, his own hand carefully cradling his injury.

"I said not to fucking call me that, Kahl!" the brunette roared, chestnut eyes lighting up with rage.

"You're fucking insane!" was the furious response. As if on impulse, Kyle charged at him and shoved him against the wall. He then pressed his forearm against Eric's chest in order to keep him in place as he caught his breath, temper flaring. This didn't last for long as the larger male quickly got the upper hand, delivering a violent punch to Kyle's abdomen which caused him to fall to his knees in agony.

"Learn how to pick your fights, Jew," he snarled, kneeling down in front of him and clutching his curly, auburn hair. He lifted his head forcefully by the tangled locks in order to force Kyle to look him in the eyes.

"Fuck yourself," he breathed out, earning a brutal box to the mouth. After composing himself somewhat, he spit blood into Eric's face, glaring daggers at him.

The brunette pulled him into a standing position and then pushed him away, wiping the gore off of his forehead and grabbing his coat off of the bed. While his back was still turned, his face fell. He knew that he had gone too far this time. "Find your own way back," he muttered silently, snatching the car keys from their place on the counter and exiting the shabby room, slamming the door behind himself.

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 **I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! I have a lot planned for this story. For those of you wondering, I'm working on the second and final chapter for Of Sunsets and Gentlemen and I truly apologise for the wait. Thanks for reading!**


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